ataraxion | [ TEXT ] in which cambridge makes a polite enquiry about her location

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[ TEXT ] in which cambridge makes a polite enquiry about her location

[ Hello, fellow crewmembers. If your device wasn’t on before IT CERTAINLY IS NOW! Cambridge - still nursing the mental wound of her power being so rudely culled and currently feeling obnoxiously disorientated - technopathically shoves a text transmission your way: ]

if somebody doesn't tell me exactly where the fuck I am then I am airlocking the whole bloody ship so help me god.

[ An idle threat, don’t you worry. If she had been at full strength then she might have attempted to slip her way through the ship’s systems but as it is she can barely switch a light off, let alone override the hundreds of security precautions that would undoubtedly stand between her and an airlock. Still, the impulse behind the threat is very real: uncertainty and fear mingled with a desperation to check that she wasn’t going mad and dreaming this all... ]

unless this is some hideously unfunny prank in which case you can all go to hell. bad form, you bastards.

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I know how to open the airlocks, for one. [ Which isn't a lie. She does know how to theoretically open the airlock, but with her powers in such a state of disarray it's not likely she'll ever be able to actually do it... ]

[ augh, doesn't she just know it :c ]

you're hardly able to stop me.

I was about to propose a trade, actually. [ She pauses for thought and her expression darkens. ] Once I'm quite finished threatening the integrity of the ship, that is. First things first.

[ Ohhh, teenager creature thing, don't be frown! ]

[ Having absolutely no concept of maternal, caring instincts Cambridge continues to be brisk, crossing her arms and raising a sleek eyebrow as she raps out: ]

You understand that if you don't tell me then I shall have no choice but to name you myself?

[ ohhhhh, Tobias, you get points for calling her ma'am. You can stay. ]

I can't imagine that plan is working out terribly well for you so far, mister Donn.

[ CLEARLY! ]

unless your friend Mr. Stein can fly a spaceship, it probably would.

[ subtext: who the fuck is Ben Stein ]

hellish, maybe. actual hell is quite doubtful.

that's what I'm doing. communicating a threat of violence.

[ Cambridge is so lost. What the actual fuck. ]

breathing while you're in it would be impossible. that's the point. one cannot hope to survive.

[ Ugh, that tone of voice. Mouse wonders if this lady is the fuzz but she's far too pretty and kind of talks like somebody fancy from a movie. Instead of answering, he asks defensively: ]

S'your name? [ God, he hopes it's something dumb. ]

since you arrived on board the ship?

Humans can't, anyway. But I don't really have to breathe, so I'm perfectly fine.

Although it does make communication difficult. On my last ship, comm rings helped circumvent that limitation.

you should see what I can do with a cherry stem. are you here to answer my question.

I'm counting on someone in charge on this hideous little operation wanting to step in and stop me, actually.

[ attention seeking, basically. ]

unless you are that someone. in which case you have three minutes to explain.

[ of COURSE she takes offence with Southern-accented slow, drawling simpleton language! ]

are you simple. a bastard is somebody who makes your life terribly difficult by imprisoning you in a space ship. i suspect this vessel is full of them.

[Jedi are taught to be polite, after all. It's what he does best!]

Well, it hasn't been very long. These things can take a while, if they're going to be figured out right.

Eeyup. Well, figure there ain't many bastards here then, since there's no one but us- uh... vacationers. [The best he can come up with for the moment of what they all are.]

What's your name? [Very friendly and calm, having either not gotten or takes no offense at being called simple.]

[So she didn't override the messaging system? Heatwave is a bit disappointed his excitement isn't mirrored, but he figures it would be a shock for some people.]

[And this wasn't exactly the best way to meet.]

I am Heatwave. Don't worry. I won't bother you if you don't bother the ship.

[Trying to talk and make friends isn't being a bother, right? Hestwave makes no further attempts to talk to her communicator, however - it was just as defensive as she was, almost, but in a much more polite way - and withdraws completely. Maybe she just needed time to process the development?]

Why the hell would I want you to-- [Plans kick in before he gets the chance to ask her why she's hot for getting sucked out into space. If she can open doors that are otherwise locked, she might be telling the truth.]

Any airlock?

Imogen. [ She sounds prim as fuck. ] Imogen Moore. [ Cambridge lifts her chin decisively and announces: ] And I think I shall call you Hugo, seeing as there doesn't seem to be any other name forthcoming.

[ There is a loooooong pause before Cambridge rattles off her reply: ]

what in god's name are you then.

maybe they want to see you die in the interesting vacuum of space. but like i said, capslock always gets more attention, even if did already have the advantage of forcing this message on all of us.

[ he can appreciate the desire for attention, honestly, but there are so many better ways of doing it. he also wants to know how the hell she did the forcing, but hey, one thing at a time. ]

if i was that someone, you would have had to use the capslock even with the ~urgency~ of this message. stuck just as much as you are with surprisingly not as many answers as i'd like.

then don't make it so easy, darling. and tell me the name of the ship.

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